Date Night
by trufflemores
Summary: Blaine tends to be a bit of a cuddly drunk. Kurt doesn't mind at all. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

"Kurt. Kurt, Kurt. _Kurt._"

"Hm?"

"I had an epiphany," Blaine said, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss him soundly on the cheek – which ended up near Kurt's eye, given how drunk he was. "Do you want to hear it? It was an epiphany about you."

"Maybe you should sit down first," Kurt said, amused, as Blaine swayed to and fro and almost toppled over the back of the couch.

"No, no, this one's good. It's really good," Blaine promised, walking – swaying – around to the front of the couch. He spared a brief cynical glance for the empty space on the couch near Kurt's feet before climbing on top of Kurt's lap as though they weren't surrounded by a roomful of people. Granted, most of them were caught up in their own affairs – that was what club music was for, keeping everyone from becoming too intimately aware of the presence of so many potential onlookers and making everything one big blur – but it was still the principle of the thing. Even so, Kurt couldn't say that he minded, wrapping his own arms around Blaine's waist to keep him steady as he bobbed.

"Mm," Blaine said, lost in his own thoughts for a moment, his breath tinted raspberry as he leaned in for another kiss. "Did you know – that your face – tastes – awesome?" he said, punctuating each comment with a kiss.

Kurt scrunched up his nose. "Did you just quote Rachel Berry at me?"

Blaine kissed the tip of his nose, startling a laugh from Kurt even as he explained, "No, no, no. This is totally real, Kurt. What I had with Rachel was so – " he hiccupped, losing track of his metaphor for a moment before continuing, "fetch."

Arching both eyebrows, curious to see where _this _particular line of thought had come from, Kurt said, "Dare I ask?"

"You know." Weaving, a grin on his own lips, Blaine leaned back on Kurt's knees and explained, "It'll never happen."

Kurt laughed in spite of himself. "Oh my God, I'm _marrying _a man who quotes _Mean Girls _at me when he's drunk."

"Hey," Blaine said, pouting and leaning in to nuzzle Kurt's collarbone when he failed to stop laughing, "hey, meanie. You are so mean. I have had a _revelation, _Kurt, and you are being mean to me."

"Your revelation slash epiphany is that my face 'tastes awesome,'" Kurt reminded dryly, his giggle fit ceasing at last as he rubbed his thumbs against Blaine's hips. "Tell me how that wasn't an invitation to make fun of you?"

Blaine whined against his shoulder, rubbing his head against it a little. "I quit. I quit. You are the meanest boyfriend ever and I am buying you the fruitiest drink I can find. Okay?"

"If it ends with 'tequila,' then I'm in," Kurt said, patting his hip for good luck as Blaine crawled out of his lap, tilting dangerously. "Don't hurt yourself, sweetie."

He leaned back against the couch, feeling good-natured to all his fellow clubbers as he watched them dance underneath the dark lights, Blaine's swaying form disappearing among them as he wandered off towards the bar.

"He's cute," a guy leaning against the back of the couch pointed out.

Kurt's lips quirked into a smile as he admitted, "The cutest. A liiittle misguided when he's drunk, but he means well."

"Can't go wrong with _Mean Girls,_" the guy said sagely.

Kurt laughed, extending a hand and saying, "Kurt. You are?"

"Paul. Taken," he added, shaking his hand before nodding towards another guy at the bar, who waved politely in their direction. "Just admiring. Enjoy yourself," he finished, retreating to snag his boyfriend before he, too, could wander off.

Kurt hummed aimlessly as he waited for Blaine to return, looking up and cocking his head to one side when he noticed that Blaine was empty-handed. "Couldn't find one fruity enough?" he asked playfully.

"Who was that?" Blaine asked, looking put-out and very, very pouty about it.

"Just some guy," Kurt said honestly, holding out his hands invitingly. "Come on, you promised me fruity drinks or snuggles."

"Oh." Blaine spared another glance at Paul and his boyfriend, relaxing as the two kissed and returned to the dance floor together, before clambering onto Kurt's lap again. "So you don't like Paul?"

"Shh," Kurt said, pulling him down until they could cuddle properly on the couch. "We're cuddling until you're sober enough to stand up straight, and then we're dancing, and then we're going home."

Blaine considered that agenda for a time, plucking at Kurt's shirt absentmindedly, before saying, "You have the best ideas."

"I really do," Kurt agreed, hugging him closer. "You having fun?"

"Oh my gosh, Kurt," Blaine said, nuzzling up under his chin like a cat, "I am having _the best _time."

And he promptly launched into a lengthy spiel about why gay bars were the best and why Kurt was _the best, _which of course led to more promises to buy Kurt fruity drinks when he failed to understand Blaine's explanations _completely._

It was the best night. On that front, at least, Kurt could definitely agree with him.

(It didn't hurt that at the end of it, he got to cuddle his sleepy, koala-like fiancé after they'd freshened up in their own bed, either.)


End file.
